Truths and Confessions
by Humbuggy
Summary: 'I have not much time. Already my mind is becoming less and less my own,the periods of infrequent lucidity are becoming increasingly rare. Indeed I know not when The Evil shall grow in my mind yet again. What you know of me is not the truth, please, listen." Ganondorf was not always who he is now, because power can corrupt even it's self.


WOW, your ALIVE!

Yep, and better than ever. this has been a while in the making, so I hope you guys enjoy it. It's my first really serious LoZ fanfic.

Yes there is Yaoi in this, but not between Link and gannon. Anyways. AUTOMATED DISCALIMER BOT I CHOOSE YOU!

ADB: HUMBUGGY DOEN"T OWN. YAY.

Oh yeah, the name is latin for **Not much time to tell the truth.**

* * *

The Evil_ shall grow in my mind yet again and l will be reduced to nothing but the smallest speck of awareness, able only to watch in horror as _The Evil_ controls my puppet hands and commits  
__atrocities again. _

_I have always looked like this. My name has always been what it is. I have always been of this race. But I have never been evil. _It _is evil. Not me._

_I have always been strong, yes. Men of my race always were. Women included._

_I did not help the weak, but I never used my strength against them, even when my short temper called upon me to strike them down. I am however, not as strong willed as I foolishly once thought I was. Weak enough so that while _The Evil _cannot take my will and kill all vestiges of Self, my Self, _It _can suppress my will and reduce my Self to the barest speck of awareness. _

_I know that all of you believe me to be something that I am not, so for that reason and that reason alone I shall not tell you my name. That will come much later when you have heard my story. My entire story. But as I said I have little time so my writing is rushed and messy. My usual script or shall I say _Its _usual script is flowing, unhurried. Almost like calligraphy. _

_I found _It_ when I was just a boy many, many years ago. I was seventeen and on a hunt. Even now I still remember our quarry. It was a large buck with proud antlers and pelt so black it looked as if it had been cut from the farthest reaches of the sky. (It was only later that I found out it was cut from the deepest, darkest, depths of hell). He was a King. A fine prize for any hunter. _

_But that was not the only reason that we were hunting him, around his neck someone had tied a strange emblem, not only was it of a strange design but it was solid, pure Goron gold. My entire tribe agreed that would be worth something. Thus reason we were hunting this _particular_ buck._

_I was a very large for my age, almost as large as some of the men. No it was not fat as you might assume, but muscle. We had to be hard to survive where we lived. But there was very little game, Sand diggers at best. But they were all shell and nasty to hunt, jumping out at you when you were un-alert. There were and still are Bulbins, but they are humanoid race and no one liked eating their meat. We would only do so in the most desperate of times. They were also nasty creatures, inclined to mischief. One of the reasons that _It_ preferred to use them when _It _had control. The Bulbins as a race were more easily influenced and controlled than some of the more advanced races. Yetis included. Thus was the reason that hunts could take days, even weeks, sometimes months. Before winter we would travel through some of the furthest forests stocking up on meat that would see us through a period where hunts would be impossible even close to our desert tribe land. But it was spring and food was plenty. This was more of a hunt for fun and the glory of the kill than for food. It was also as I mentioned before, a hunt for the golden emblem tied around the bucks neck. I was one of the best hunters, my sword sharpest, my spear longest, my horse was also the swiftest, the fastest. In a race against the quickest creature my horse could outrun them all. All the same he was just keeping pace with this buck with his pelt so black. I had never seen a faster beast. If I could have taken his speed and bottled it in a jar, I would have. _

_I eventually cornered the animal at the base of a cliff the rest of the hunt left behind, their horses unable to keep up. But even cornered the buck showed no fear. Just cool calculated risk. Most unlike any animal I knew or know, with, perhaps, the exception of one. He tossed his antlers' and scraped a fore hoof against the ground, warning that he was about to charge. I moved for my spear, unafraid. He lowered his head and I swore that for a moment his eyes flashed the red of Hylian blood. I lifted my spear and he charged. My horse stood stock still, well trained in instances such as this. I threw my spear and watched its perfect trajectory as it arced towards the charging beast's heart. But something went wrong, as my spear raced towards him, the emblem it, flashed. And my spear just, spun away as if it had hit an invisible wall; the buck didn't even hesitate in his stride. I sat there shocked. It was only the self-preservation instinct of my horse that saved me. As it was he received a long scratch along his flank._

_I remember his name now, Sand Sprinter, the horse that raced the wind. He was a gift from my father when I turned fourteen. I was given a herd to choose from, mares, colts, geldings, fillies, but no stallions and all were broken in. When I entered the large sand filled field, they all came to me, all of them except Sand sprinter. He was racing along the top of the largest sand dune, his mane and tail like banners of silk. He was racing the wind that caught the fine yellow sand in its grasp and took it bouncing, rolling, creating wisps of hot, stinging air. He was only a young colt back then, but he still fast as the wind, able to race it along the crest of a sand dune. I pointed to him and said to my father. _

"Him. Yes. I want him Father; he's the fastest of them all."

_When my colt came down to drink from the oasis that was near the fence of the field, I was able to see the colour of his coat. It was the same colour as the sand that was picked up by the wind. The same colour of the sand he had been racing. Thus I gave him his name, Sand Sprinter._

_But again, back to my tale. As I wheeled Sand Sprinter to face the buck, I drew my sword. Back then I had had a two handed sword, not this flimsy one hand sword that _It _prefers. When I fought on horseback, I would use my legs and knees to send signals to Sand Sprinter enabling me to use my two handed sword. The buck had also evidently decided that he would do his best to exterminate me. It was now more than just a flash of red; his eyes were solid, bright red, the red of Hylian blood. He was now an unearthly sight, the pelt of black hell, the antlers' knife sharp, the Goron gold emblem, and now the demonic blood red eyes. As the buck once again tossed his antlers, I gave the age old war cry of our tribe hoping to scare him and (at the age of seventeen) build my courage to face such a hellish creature that I had never seen the like of. The beast remained undaunted and the only thing running through my veins was fear-fuelled adrenalin. He charged at me, showing an even greater speed that I had not thought possible from anything mortal or immortal, creature or natural occurrence. Sand sprinter leapt away from the buck as I swung my sword down, simply hoping to behead the creature. I was no longer desirous of the glory of a clean kill being mine. I just wanted the creature dead._

_As it was I missed him, merely nicking his neck with the tip of my sword. All the same it enraged him. He seemed to grow double in size, his antlers' sharper and more deadly, fangs protruded out of his mouth, three inches long and as sharp as the prongs of his horns. His eyes, if that was at all possible, became redder and an aura of darkness seemed to gather around him. This was too much for my brave, swift Sand Sprinter who had been so valiant, so courageous up to that point. He screamed and reared, I could not use my hands to calm him as I was holding my sword so I hung on with my knees. The demonic buck was already preparing to charge again. I knew that there was no calming Sand sprinter down until the buck was dead, so I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and jumped off Sand sprinter, landing on my feet to face the buck who was already charging in all his sharp pronged, red eyes, fanged majesty. I leapt to the side, aiming my sword for his jugular; again I missed but this time I sliced through the string around his neck on which the emblem was hanging. It fell to the ground. I barely gave it a glance, only noting where it fell. Instead I watched the buck as for the first time he stumbled. I did not hesitate, I lunged with my sword and cut the tendon of one of his hind legs, causing him to fall to the ground, and I followed through with a direct stab to the buck's heart. Killing him instantly._

_Even today I still remember his bellow of pain._

_I dropped to my knees, adrenalin was still pumping through my veins, but fear had made my legs weak. Cheers and bellows of admiration erupted from the hunters who had finally caught up and had circled around me, watching the fight. A few of them clapped me on the back and shoulders whilst two of my friends ran to catch Sand Sprinter who had still not fully calmed down and was still shying away from both the buck and the strange gold emblem. I got to my feet, knees wobbling and walked over to inspect my kill. The first thing that I noticed was that he had shrunk down in size, he was still large, but not the size he had been when he was fighting me. His antlers, whilst still proud, were about as sharp as a normal buck's, his fangs were gone and there was no longer an aura of darkness about him. As I came closer to the dead buck, I saw that his pelt was now shot through with flecks of dark brown, and it no longer looked like it had be cut from the furthest reaches of the nights sky._

_All the same, he was fine kill and an excellent prize, I would wear his pelt as a cloak for years afterwards and his antlers would be used as the handle to a knife that I would carry until the blade wore away from constant sharpening. However, it was the gold emblem that was the true prize and I went on one knee to retrieve it and hold it above my head for all to see. As I knelt, my hand hovered above, hesitating. Even to this day I do not know what it is that made me hesitate; I believe it was intuition. More than that, more like a warning that foretold of death and, ultimately, my destruction. My every instinct screamed against picking the emblem up._

_The back of my writing hand grows hot as I remember the events of that day, the events that I would not know the far reaching consequences of. I do not curse that day- that hunt, instead I curse the fact that I had not listened to what my every instinct was telling me. _

_I allowed myself to be swayed by the people whom I called my friends, who later cursed that day I was born._

_I picked up the triangular emblem and blacked out._

_I awoke a few minutes later to a fierce burn in my hand, like I had immersed it in my mother's cooking fire, and a ring of shocked, white, shaken, worried warriors. All of which were staring at my hand like it had just turned into a fearsome, large, animal's claw. I looked down; the first thing that I noticed was that I was no longer holding the gold emblem, the second thing that I noticed was that something glinted of the back of my hand._

_I gave a yell of shock; the strange triangular emblem was now imbedded in the back of the hand that I had picked the emblem up in. It was slightly raised from the rest of my dark skin and had shrunk in size, I noticed that one corner of the emblem was shining brighter than the others. I look at my comrades around me and asked them all a question, they could not answer it in detail claiming that it had happened too fast, some did not meet my eyes. I was to prideful to show it, but I was worried, and I turned to the wisest of all the hunters. He was not the oldest of all of us, but he was at the height of his vitality at twenty years of age. He was also one of the most experienced of the group; as the chief son he had been on these hunts since a young age, but had also taken to travelling the forest alone and he knew these lands, and what lay in them, better than anyone. I cannot remember his name, only that he was a tall strong man, but then, most of us were. He was handsome; a crooked nose and a scar across his left cheek and a wide, open smile gave him a roguish look that was belied by the deep warm eyes that told of knowledge and experience. He wasn't smiling now, his face was creased and his eyes were troubled._

_I find it funny that I should remember his expression and how he looked but not what his name was. No doubt as I delve deeper into these memories his name shall become clearer to me._

_As I look back now, I remember a rush of respect and fondness for him. I hold- no held him in a high regard; he would be long gone by now. I remember one time he and I were separated from the rest of the group at a hunt (this was before I had found the gold emblem) and it began to storm. A great fierce storm that gnashed it's teeth and rolled it's eyes, a beast that ran amok the land, shaking its ragged mane of a ruff and slavering at the mouth as it whipped its flumed tail wildly causing the rain to come down with the force of loosed arrows and the wind the scream in a manic, endless keen._

_He was the one to find a cave where we could shelter in to out-patience the storm._

_My hand is beginning to shake in a rush of remembering and the back of my hand is beginning to flare- a warning. _

_No, I must be calm, I must finish this._

_I must._

_The flares die down, but I know that my time is running ever shorter and now my writing is near illegible, but I must, must finish this._

_I control the rush of memories and let them well around me, I shall write them down, and you will listen, read and understand._

_As the spring of memories is still clear in my mind's eye, I can tell you his name, Gaislenne. That name rolls of the tongue easily, even better screamed in an ecstasy of a time-unchanged rite as a storm of passion would beat against fevered bodies._

_A storm to match the one that was screaming manically outside of the cave with its hidden spring of sweet, fresh water and strange fireflies that would flit just about the surface of the water, but pink and glowing with a soft soothing light._

_The muscles of his back were so smooth; chiseled to a strange perfection. His arms, his hands, even his fingers were skilled, knowing, sure, strong. And I, in all of my 16 years, pliable as softened furs, moaning with appreciation for the skill of his hands, tongue, and mouth._

_I remember waking the next day; he was in the spring, bathed in the glow of the extraordinary fireflies. He turned to me with his crooked grin on his face, the one I loved about all others. He beckoned to me, a single twitch of two crooked fingers and I was his, his mouth on mine, both of us caressed in the silver embrace of the water and enfolded in the arms of a gentle glow._

_It was softer this time, slower. I was still sore from his expert ministrations of the previous night. Gaislenne could make me moan in a hundred different ways and scream in a thousand. To this day I have not found another as skillful as him. _

_I remember that afterwards as we lay, collapsed in the shallows, the strange fireflies flocked around us, their glow seemed to intensify and seemed to ease the sores; leaving us with an afterglow and some bruising, but still able to walk without hobbling._

_Gaislenne gave a small curving smile when I mentioned the fireflies and the strange gentle chime they gave off when they flew._

"_I don't believe that they're fireflies, I think that they're fairies."_

_My lips parted in awe and looked at the fairies with new eyes._

_He chuckled slightly; Gaislenne had an infectious laugh and I smiled, the warmth still seeping into me._

"_Yeah, they're really something aren't they? I don't think that I've come across ones as pretty as these before," he gazed upon them with a soft wonder, his small smile still on his face._

_We were separated from the hunt for three glorious weeks, it was no problem as this hunt was a two month expedition to store food and do business at the trading posts at the edge of the desert. I knew that no one would really be worried about us, I was strong and Gaislenne was knowledgeable, besides this often happened on hunts, especially long ones. As long as Gaislenne and I stuck together, we would be fine._

_This was more true than ever when I and Gaislenne were hunting for food and I brushed against a strange plant, it was only on the right side of my lower back, but it burned like acid, I wasn't worried at first, but then it started to affect me very badly; my vision began to blur, it was hard for me to breath, I was dizzy and the whole world started to spin._

_I have no doubt that without Gaislenne, I would have died. He laid me down beside the huge twisting roots of an oak tree, by then I was beginning to hallucinate. I heard wolves howling, strange music that terrified me. I saw hands of shadow reaching for me and vines of grasshopper green curled with a blue metal twine itself over my body. I saw the world covered in darkness and a laugh that sunk into my bones. I saw red eyes that floated in front of me and a sword made of light, I saw men made wolves and wolves made men, boats and hats that talked and a dark cloaked figure silhouetted by fire. I saw a strange blue instrument that could summon a storm; I saw a blade with a purple hilt and an army of monsters. I saw crumbling castles and time spinning backwards and forwards, tumbling over and over and over and over. I saw myself a beast with tusks and cloven hooves and I began to scream. I was right to scream, when one sees their future there is nothing you can do but scream._

_The last thing I saw as my body was held up by the black antlers of a buck, the prongs sharp as swords, was a glittering emblem that hung before my eyes. It was brighter than the sun, but yet darker that the absence of the moon in the night where not even the stars shone and it seemed to glint with a malevolent promise._

_I blacked out._

_It was Gaislenne who removed my shirt to inspect my torso. It was Gaislenne who kept a clam head as I was seeing visions. It was Gaislenne who saw the red streaks from my lower back and knew that it was poison that was taking me over. It was Gaislenne who placed his mouth on my back to suck the poison from my blood stream. It was Gaislenne who bore me in his arms to carry me back to the cave with the fairies so they could heal me. It was Gaislenne and no one else._

_Little more than a year later I would be doing the same thing for him, except that it would be a sword thrust and I would not meet with the same success. _

_It was he told me, at night when all were asleep, and I was still staring into the flickering depth of the fire._

"_I'm worried, I don't know what that is. I have never come across such a phenomenon before. Never in my travels have I seen such a thing. But…" he turned to me, his tongue flicking across dry lips, "There is a tale of something like this, of an emblem that look remarkably similar, except that all corners were glowing. I'm worried; I think that you ought to talk to the shaman."_

_I stayed beside the fire long after Gaislenne had gone to bed, staring at the still glowing coals of the fire._

_I realize that I am flicking back and forward in my memories, but there is not time to sit, plan, write slowly carefully, place down all my memories in chronological order. I must write as much as I can and hope that you will be able to understand this all, for what I write _must_ be understood and I _must_ finish it- already I feel the corrupted power on the back of my hand beginning to stir and I know that very soon _It_ will rise again and there will be nothing I can do to stop it, except bide my time and wait for the vital moment where I will take over my body again for those critical seconds where the final blow will be laid and I will die and the presence of the corrupted Triforce of Power will be removed from my mind to take refuge in the smallest corner while I will be bound to a different dimension until the cycle begins again as the Corrupt Triforce will keep me alive. I cannot die, the Triforce has come to depend on me as the host, and without a host the Triforce will die and become nothing more than a dull shape, losing all meaning. The cycle will continue as I always has done. Over the years I have seen the passing of time, tasted the different flavors of the Heros in green who have come to save their land, their people. I have tasted ones that carried the scent of sea salt on their clothing, others that smelt of childhood games and forbidden forests, the last hero tasted like summer, goats and hay, intoxicating with the woody deep motes of the forest and crisp clear nights under the face of the sickle moon and the distant stars. A longer time has passed after the fight with the Hero of Twilight than any Hero before. I am aware of how much this world has changed and I know that magic is now only a Childs tale and does not exist, or so they think. Nothing is certain; only one thing is for sure, a Hero wielding the Triforce of Courage will take up arms and fight._

_Please, let me tell you, that I have not been corrupted, that I am not evil; I am of my own mind. The Triforce of Power is corrupted, I know not why, but it is._

_Pain is flaring from the Triforce and dark tendrils are curling around the corners of my eyes, I know that there is no more time left, from now I must save, conserve my strength and wait for that final battle._

_By now you may have figured out my name but for those who have not, this is the last thing that I shall say to you before I send this from this realm and hope that you will find this, listen, read and understand._

_My name is Gannondorf Dragmire._

* * *

_R and R, thats all i ask,_

_I know that people never read these things so I will make this quick,_

_Reveiw and you get a cookie or some other baked dessert treat._

_Or the reveiw monstah will get you!_


End file.
